


Unwavering Truths

by afteriwake



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-28
Updated: 2014-05-28
Packaged: 2018-01-26 23:07:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1705898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After all that has happened, after all the things that have changed, there are a few fundamental truths that never change for Molly when it comes to Sherlock Holmes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unwavering Truths

**Author's Note:**

> So I might occasionally write some stuff that deals with season 3 as it happened. Not often, but sometimes. This is one of those stories. My answer to the "Autumn (Fall)" prompt at **land_deduction** for the Bingo card challenge.

Autumn was really her favorite time of the year. It was cooler than summer and warmer than winter, for a start. The perfect balance of seasons, and better than spring in that regard. It was a time to start pulling out the scarves and the hats, chilly enough to use them but still pleasant enough to walk around in just a coat. And then there were the leaves. She loved watching the leaves change colors, go from green to orange and yellow and red and then fall to the ground. Sometimes the leaves crunched under her feet when she stepped on them, and that was quite a pleasing sound.

She had managed to convince Sherlock to come join her today as she sat in the park. The two of them were sipping their warm drinks, cider for her and coffee for him, and they were sitting in companionable silence. There was a lot they didn't talk about now. There were gaps in conversation, avoided topics and long silences. But she'd grown accustomed to those things. It was better than what it had been so long ago, with the cruel rebukes and the indifference and the hurt. This was better, but it also wasn't what she really wanted. She didn't know if she'd ever get what she really wanted now. It was all so very different now. For a while she hadn't been sure they could stay friends, after everything. So much had gone on, so much had changed, that they weren't the same people they had been when they'd met. They weren't even the same people they'd been when he returned all that time ago. She wasn't altogether sure if this was a good thing or a bad thing, to be honest. There were times she missed the glimpse of what she had gotten when he'd first returned, when he had actively shown he'd cared. She knew he did, but he didn't show it anymore. But maybe joining her today was a start.

“So is this how you relax?” he asked after a long silence, turning to look at her.

She nodded. “Only during the spring and autumn, though. It's generally too hot in the summer and too cold in the winter.”

“It is a rather brisk day,” he said before taking a sip of his coffee. “But it's preferable to overheating or freezing on this bench.”

“Yes, it is.” She set her drink down on the seat. “What do you see when you look at people? I've always wondered.”

“I see fact after fact about who they are, what they've done, where they've been and who they've met. It all jumps out at once and I take it in very quickly.”

“And it happens all the time?” she asked, tilting her head.

“Yes,” he said as he nodded. “Every time I look at someone.” He looked over at her for a moment, then set his drink on the bench as well and stood up. She glanced at him and watched as he moved in front of the bench. He knelt down and picked up an orange leaf, closely examining it. “What do you see when you look at people?” he asked after a moment.

“I see their expressions, see if they have joy in their life or if they're bitter, see if they want to be around me or not.” She got up off the bench herself, moving over towards him.

“What do you see when you look at me?” he asked.

She was quiet for a long time. “I see hurt and pain. I see loneliness. I see a bit of distrust sometimes. Not often, but sometimes. But I also see pride, and strength, and resilience.” She leaned over and picked up a leaf of her own. “I suppose you're like a tree. You're not a sapling anymore, but you're still young, and maybe bits got hacked off with a saw at some point, and people have carved into you and it's stuck. You the lone oak in a forest of pine, and while all the other trees stay the same year after year you go through cycles. You start off with just your branches, then your leaves come in and you're happy, and then they fall off and you're sad. But you look magnificent regardless.”

He discarded that leaf and picked up a different one, this time a red one. “I don't see any of those things. At least, not anymore. But I suppose it's true. I just don't know if I would put it quite as poetically.”

“You've been hurt a lot,” she said.

“But you won't hurt me,” he said, looking up at her.

“No, I won't.” She picked up another leaf of a different color, and then a third. “You're a good friend, Sherlock.”

“I could be better, though,” he said.

“I could as well,” she said, giving him a smile. “We don't really talk as much anymore, but that's all right. Maybe it's best if we don't.”

“But we should.” He straightened up, rolling the stem of the leaf in his fingers. “I don't have many friends left. I don't want to lose any of them.”

She dropped her leaf and reached over, placing a hand on his arm. “You'd have to do a lot more than that to lose me as a friend.”

“I want to protect you, all of you. And I don't think I can. I tried before and I failed.”

“We can protect ourselves, to an extent,” she said, moving her hand off his arm and using both her hands to frame his face. She forced him to look at her. “It's noble you want to make sure we're safe, but you shouldn't have to do it all yourself. And truth be told, we should be busy protecting you.”

“I'm not important,” he said quietly.

“Do you really think that? Honestly?” she asked, her eyes wide. “Because that's bollocks. You are very important. If nothing else, you're very important to me, and don't you dare forget that.”

“I'm important to you?” he asked, slightly surprised.

“ _Very_ important,” she said with an emphatic nod. “I care about you greatly. I have for a very long time, even when you treated me like dirt. It just grew over time, and grew more when you started caring back.”

“I don't show I care, do I?” he asked.

“No, but that's all right. I know you do, and that's enough.” She let go of his face and moved a step away from him but he reached over for her arm. She stopped and looked up at him. “What is it?”

“Why do you have faith in me?”

“Because you're one of the best men I know.” She looked at him intently. “And because I think you deserve it.”

He looked at her for a long moment, then stepped closer to her. “You deserve a better friend than me.”

“Oh, Sherlock,” she said. “One day you're going to realize you are very well loved and I hope when that day comes you don't think you're unimportant.”

“I don't think you'll let me,” he said with a faint smile.

“You're absolutely correct. I won't.” She moved close to him and wrapped her arms around his waist, hugging him tightly. After a moment he embraced her back, resting his chin on top of her head. “We'll all come out of this well in the end. We'll all be safe and we'll all have a chance to finally be happy.”

“I suppose we will,” he said quietly.

She pulled away slightly and looked up at him, searching his face. Then she nodded. “We will.”

“So what should we do now?” he asked, letting go of her.

“We should go get our drinks and take a walk and talk. I think there's a lot of gaps in our conversations that we can fill now.”

“All right.” She let go of him and they went back to the bench. After they picked up their drinks they went back to the path and began to walk. They began to talk as they walked, going over avoided topics, and she finally had hope that, just maybe, they would get to be the type of friends she had hoped they could be for so long.


End file.
